The Power of Words
by ITalkFast
Summary: Words have the power to hurt or to heal, whether spoken or unspoken.


Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.

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><p>Kate lay in the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling, her right hand gently toying with the loose edge of the bandage protruding from the neck of her t-shirt. The usual night sounds of the lake and the woods were not working the magic she remembered from her childhood. In the six weeks since she had left the hospital she had experienced the expected bad dreams. She knew that it said something about her that she had dealt with them so matter-of-factly, she just wasn't sure that it said anything particularly good. But after her Mom, and then the years of horrifying sights as a cop, she and her subconscious had reached a detente of sorts. The dreams came, she woke in a sweat, she thought them through, dissected each one to reach the essential issue it brought, and they departed, job done. It was a helluva thing, but she had become pretty pragmatic about the whole process; recognizing that the fear and shock had to exit in some way, she embraced it and moved on.<p>

So why was she lying here awake at 2am with her brain spinning and no peace in her soul?

When she had finished her intensive physical and respiratory therapy, released to recover on her own, she had not hesitated in her decision to get out of the city. She was craving peace and quiet, some time to herself, and an escape from the oppressive heat of New York in the summer. Josh was gone, for good this time; he would return from Central America in the fall, but only to the city, not to her. Her Dad came up on the weekends and they sank into the patterns of years without even a thought. He fished early in the morning and she greeted him with breakfast on his return. They hiked and swam as the mood struck, usually not very strenuous activity, but enough to settle her nerves and stretch her muscles. In the evenings they cooked dinner together, and watched old movies on VHS, the same ones they had been watching for years, as if Hollywood had stopped making films sometime in 1997. Sometimes they played cards, checkers or just read books in companionable silence. On the weekends she didn't lie awake thinking too hard about not thinking too hard. Sleep came predictably, if not always easily, and she was ok with that.

But something about those nights in between, when she went whole days without talking to another person, sent her to her bed filled to the brim with unspoken words. They choked her, cut off her air supply, destroyed her peace. In the light of day she couldn't think about it, wouldn't let herself really. Truth was, for all the vast number of words roiling in her brain, she didn't yet have a clue about which ones she wanted to speak, which would die an unnourished death in her head. Her days were purposeful, if not busy, but at night, she had no choice but to lay there as the words came for her, demanding the attention of thought and consideration. And most of the words were for him.

She missed him, more than she could ever have anticipated. How had she not recognized the moment when Castle moved from his place as an entertaining, occasionally useful companion, and become a necessity in her life? She wasn't stupid, her attraction to him had been immediate and visceral, but the temptation to try it out had never outweighed her knowledge that he was seriously ADD where women were concerned. And then, by the time she had become aware that there was a lot more to Richard Castle than the persona he presented, he was already a friend. And trusted and valued friends aren't so easy to come by that she was willing to risk it all for some bedroom calisthenics, even if they promised to be seriously good. But somehow he just kept being right there in her life, offering what she needed, sometimes before she even realized she needed it. He had her back when she was in trouble, lightened her load with his humor, knew when to push, when to back off. He must have been watching her much more closely than she had realized, because she finally understood that he saw her like nobody else, knew her almost better than she knew herself.

Some of those words banging around her skull were words of regret and apology for the lie she had last spoken to him. Her first coherent thoughts as she came back to herself after surgery had been of Castle. She could still see the burning look in his eyes as he whispered his love, commanded her to stay, implored her not to leave him alone. But her brain had been a whirling chaotic mess, and every instinct told her to run like hell from everyone and everything until she could find some clarity. She honestly didn't know what she was supposed to do with the knowledge of how he felt.

A part of her, a rather strong and demanding part, wanted to jump on her Harley, ride hell-for-leather back to the city, and jump his bones. Rinse and repeat as needed. And her higher brain functions acknowledged the fact that sleeping with him (repeatedly) would soothe the ache, and calm the chatter in her head. But she also knew that this one counted, and if she messed it up, she would be wrecking something that could be so beautiful, so right. She couldn't do that to him, to them. If she started something with him now, dragging her truckload of baggage and her battered heart into a relationship that mattered this much, she would wreak havoc, and destroy them both. And she knew that she would never recover from that final blow, not completely, not ever whole.

The cowardly part of her whispered that she should never risk it; Speak the lie, tell him you don't feel "that way" about him, and hope that you can salvage a friendship. It'll never be enough really, but better than nothing. But when she tried to imagine the future, a year or two down the road, watching him meet someone else, fall in love, build a life, as she stands by and watches, because after all, she's his friend, right? The pain that came with the mere thought of Castle with another woman struck hard and fast, searing an utterly unwelcome image into her heart and mind. No, the only way out of this mess is forward, because the alternatives are unbearable.

The one question she has answered, at least in the privacy of her own mind, is that she loves him too, with everything that her fractured, damaged heart can muster. And because of that love, she will not go to him broken and guarded. The heart she will give him will be scarred, but whole and fully committed. She has witnessed the depths of his heart, the strength of the love he offers to the lucky few that reside there. She is determined to earn herself a place there in her own strength, not in her weakness. But remembering the nervous way he had entered the room at the hospital, so different from his usual brash confidence, and the stunned expression on his face as she uttered her cowardly lie, Kate knew she was going to have to give him some hope of a future. She just hoped that she could find the right words to make him understand, to make him trust her again. She has to let him see enough that he will wait for her to heal and to grow. And then, by God, she will come to him as an equal, a partner. Her heart raced at the thought, remembering the all too brief kiss they had shared.

Rolling cautiously to her right side, Kate checked the clock: 3am, time to give in and acknowledge that she isn't going to get any rest this night without help. Reaching for the antiquated tape walkman she had left here in her teens after upgrading to CDs, she looped the headphones over her head and settled them on her ears. She had found a box of her Mom's stuff tucked in a closet one day a few weeks before. Digging through it, she had discovered a stack of books on tape, and remembered that her Mom used to listen to them on the subway, and sometimes in the bathtub. As she flipped through the titles, she was stunned by a glimpse of Castle's face; younger, leaner, but with the same lopsided grin and twinkling eyes she knew so well. It was a couple of his early books, read by the author himself. They had become her weapon of last resort in the battle to sleep.

As she pressed the play button, his voice filled her ears, winding past her tense muscles and racing thoughts, leaving peace and calm in its wake. Kate felt herself relaxing and her mind quietly drifting, as the voice of her love whispered in her ears. And finally, she slept.


End file.
